


cobwebs

by SaekoCrolla (Crollalanza)



Series: Sports Fest 2018 Haikyuu!! [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 07:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15138332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/SaekoCrolla
Summary: Prompt:TIME: 2:47amPLACE: "We haven't been here in years."





	cobwebs

“Why here?” Osamu asks, more to himself than to the man by his side. “We haven’t been here for years.”

Suna shrugs, not saying a word, and shoves at the gate with his thigh, hearing the scrape of wood against wood, until the metal latch gives at last.

“Where it all started,” he murmurs.

Looking around, Osamu takes in the shed lit by starlight. It was one the school had used to store old sports equipment, the things that could still be used, but had been surpassed by more up to date versions. “Here?” He shakes his head, not understanding. For him it had begun … it had begun …

Well, when he thought about it, he couldn’t pinpoint the moment. There’d been a recognition that first day in the classroom, because Suna Rintarou had been another kid from Junior High who was ‘known’ and they’d swapped the smallest of smiles and slight inclines of the head on spying each other. Later, at their first practise, signing up and introducing themselves to the club, Rintarou had drifted across towards Osamu, but stayed a few paces away when Atsumu had started to whoop at Aran-san.

And they’d gravitated towards each other in class when the sensei let them sit where they want. She’d had no objection to them pairing up, remarking once that Suna-kun kept Miya-kun awake, even when the sun was shining in the late afternoon.

At fifteen, Osamu’s head had been full of volleyball and rivalries, not the pleasure an assessing pair of eyes could bring, or how hands which spiked a ball with such ferocity over a net, could bestow feather-soft touches.

But perhaps at fifteen, finding someone outside of home, with whom he clicked was the beginning, the foreshadowing, the groundwork, the frame for the rest of his life.

“Don’t you remember that summer?” Suna queries and stops in the middle of the patch of scrub.

“We had three,” Osamu replies, nudging him because how’s he supposed to remember or even hazard a guess when Rintarou’s being at his most infuriatingly enigmatic.

“Second year,” Suna concedes. “We got into shit for pissing around.”

“OH!” The memory clicks into place, and Osamu chuckles.

“Kita-san had a word with me afterwards,” Suna says. “He was ‘disappointed in me’. Oomimi-san warned me not to get carried away with your ‘shenanigans’.”

“Mine!” It’s mock outrage, he knows what Rintarou’s about to say.

“Yours and Atsumu’s. And I did try, you know? I tried not to get dragged in, tried to stay on the sidelines, to keep to myself as much as possible, but …”

“Team game,” Osamu replies. “Even on the sidelines, you’re involved.” He stares at the shed, remembering everything now. He’d been grouchy with Atsumu, taking delight in winding him up, and somehow Rintarou had gone along with it, cat-calling whenever Atsumu began his run up. When the argument had ensued, Atsumu snapping and snarling because he’d been put off and his fourth serve in a row had gone wild, Kurosu had expelled the pair of them and ordered a detention to be served clearing out the shed.

It had been two hot afternoons, eating into their free time, and though he’d moaned at the time, Osamu hadn’t minded—not really—because in his second year, he’d begun to treasure moments away from Atsumu, where he was Osamu and not ‘one of the Miyas’.

At least he’d told himself that at the time, but maybe it had been something else, less the time by himself, and more about the company he kept.

His throat dries when Rintarou links fingers.

“Dust and cobwebs,” he manages to say.

“You sneezed a lot,” Rintarou agrees, and then he gave one of his wider smiles. “And every time you sneezed, more dust shook out of your hair.”

“You liked me dusty, huh? Is that why you liked my hair grey?” he asks.

He remembers the dust, too, tiny specks in the air, catching the light. They’d formed a halo around Suna and … maybe that was when… maybe this place _had_ been the start of it.

Although his feelings towards Suna had never been saintly.

“Possibly.”  Sidestepping closer, Rintarou slipped his arm around Osamu’s waist and pressed his lips to his cheek. “Your nose crinkled whenever you sneezed, and your shirt rode up, too, and it was kinda dumb ‘cuz I’d seen you in the changing rooms so many times, but …” He trails off, yet his hand smoothes under Osamu’s sweater, plucking at his shirt until his thumb comes into contact with Osamu’s hip. “Your mole,” he continues. “First time I’d noticed and I found I couldn’t stop noticing after that.”

“Oh.” And he wants to say more, wants to say something pertinent about the first time he realised or how he’d had no idea and that if he had he’d have done something about it earlier, but Rintarou’s thumb is still caressing and under his touch, Osamu _still_ turns to jelly.

“It was a cruel summer,” Rintarou says, only faintly mocking. “But life changing, so that’s why ‘here’.”

 

 


End file.
